


Three Times the Charm

by sigynrising (snowangelaziraphale)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Valentine's Day, spnmonthlychallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowangelaziraphale/pseuds/sigynrising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day, and Alfie Pike has to work. He's bored, he's single and his gorgeous boss won't give him the time of day. Good thing there's plenty of eavesdrop fodder to get him through his shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times the Charm

Alfie Pike likes his job.

He likes the bubbling hum of voices that persist throughout the bar, the sounds of people chatting and flirting and arguing. He likes the scuffed dark wood, the trendy exposed brick walls, the closely-packed second hand furniture he makes a game of weaving through as he drops off drinks like gifts. He likes the bar itself, the reluctant gleam of dusty bottles and the businesslike movements of the bartender as she swings down taps and fills cups.

He _really_ likes the bartender.

Anna is flame-haired and slender and beckoning him over, gesturing to the two pints of Miller and bowl of peanuts she’s made up for him. He tries to think of something clever to say as he hurries over to her.

“Hey, Anna. How’s the shift- happy Valentines’ Day!” he blurts out, cringing in horror. _Oh God._

She just laughs at him. “Same to you, Alfie. Shift’s going fine. Between you and me though- I hate Valentine’s Day. So, this is for buddy cops over in the corner, kay? Thanks!” Alfie nods, dry mouthed, seizes the drinks and flees.

_Samandriel, you idiot. She hates Valentine’s Day! Why’d you have to go and bring it up?_

Buddy cops are two guys in their mid-twenties, one fair and one dark. Both handsome, both with vivid relief painted on their faces when Alfie plops their drinks and snack in front of them, smiling shyly and nodding in reply to their thanks. He doesn’t have any more orders to fill- the bar is a small one, it’s barely noon and what few patrons they do have mostly congregate on the stools near the taps. He has time to neaten the place up, to straighten chairs and flick the cloth he keeps in the pocket of his apron over the sticky wooden tables. So he stays put, close enough to overhear the two men’s conversation.

“Hell Cas, I’m beat. Thank God we got those last two chumps in time for Valentine’s, eh?” The blond digs his elbow into his friend’s ribs companionably.

Alfie can’t see the reaction from his awkward angle, but the tone of the reply is unmistakably confused. Maybe slightly irritated.

“I don’t understand, Dean. What difference does the date make? Neither you nor I has anyone to spend it with, at least not in the traditional manner.”

Woah, guy had a voice like he gargled gravel. Chugged charcoal. Swallowed swords.

“C’mon, grumpy grinch. It’s a holiday! And you get to spend it with me, your best pal.” The guy seems determined to force some levity into his tone. Alfie subtly readjusts himself at the table, turns so that he can see their expressions as well as overhear their speech.

“Dean” seems to be trying to force some levity into a voice weighted down by exhaustion. “Cas” has a face shaded with old stubble and under-eye bags. They look like a case study for beaten down cops on their off hours, minus the donuts, and Alfie can’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for them. Poor guys- no one should be alone on a day all about love. Even Alfie got to spend it _near_ the girl of his dreams, if not exactly _with_.

Cas seems some bit heartened, though, whether from his friend’s words or the fortification of half a pint of beer chugged on an empty stomach. “You’re right, Dean. I am glad I have you to spend the day with. It means…everything.”

 _Woah_. Alfie backtracks, mentally readjusting his thinking.

The guy had spoken so intensely, so passionately. His eyes blazed blue with sincerity, and his smile was small and affectionate. Tender.

Were buddy cops like, a thing?

Dean seems about as surprised as Alfie, expressive eyebrows flying upward for a moment before he buries his face in his pint.

“Same here ba- buddy. Good to have ya.”

Alfie bites his lip and hopes the brim of his baseball cap will hide his grin should either man turn his way. This is something…precious, he’s witnessing. Something important, he knows. Maybe one day these two guys will be looking back on this moment as the start of something, and he gets to be a fly on the wall for it. What a Hallmark moment.

Then Dean opens his mouth.

“Well look at us here, huh? Like a couple a’ lovebirds! I tell ya, Cas, we should make this a thing. Make a go of this Valentine’s gig. Do it proper.”

Cas cocks his head to the side, disconcertingly reminiscent of a bird. “What?”

“No, just hear me out! We blow this joint, right, head back home and get cleaned up. Then in a few hours, I’ll meet you in the park.”

“I like the park.”

“I know! I’ll have like, snacks and a basket and stuff-“

“I can bring a blanket.”

“We can kick back, have a few cold ones, I’ll make sandwiches with some of that organic honey shit you like. We can watch the bees.”

“That sounds…ideal.” Cas is smiling openly now, not taking his eyes off Dean. The other man’s face is animated, lit up from within, and he tosses his hands about wildly as he continues.

“We can just hang, y’know? Take a walk, toss a ball around. Then later, we throw on ties or something and head out. Somewhere fancy. Whaddya say, Castiel? Will you be my Valentine?”

Alfie _has_ to tell Anna about this, he thinks happily, bending his face over even more to hide his uncontrollable beaming, although he doubts either of his customers will notice. He waits with bated breath for Cas- Castiel- to reply. This is it. _This is it-_

“No.”

Everything screeches to a halt. Alfie’s head snaps up just in time to watch Dean’s face fall. His hands drop to the table with a _thunk_ , a harsh flush blooms at his cheeks and his eyes are wide with horror. He looks utterly mortified.

“Oh jeez- Cas, y’know I was kidding, right? We don’t gotta do all that stuff. Any of it! I was playing around. I just wanna head home, catch some Z’s, read a book…hey, was I telling you about how that Vonnegut one I was reading ended?” he babbles nervously, and Alfie is sick with second-hand humiliation. Poor bastard. His drink’s on the house.

“No, Dean.”

 _His_ drink is double plus tax, with a sizeable tip thrown in if he expects to be welcome here again.

“Dean, I meant I don’t want to go some place fancy. We’re not fancy.” Cas makes his voice gentle, rueful- he’s realised his mistake. Alfie’s heart swells two sizes in his chest. There’s hope for them yet.

“I can be fancy,” Dean objects, but it’s a weak murmur. He leans closer to Cas unconsciously, fear plain in his eyes.

“Right. Well, I can’t, and I don’t want you to be. I want to do all that stuff in the park, and then I want to head to Ellen’s for burgers and pie. I want to do all that stuff.” He sways closer too, smile gone from his face but very much present in the twinkle of his eyes. “I’d love to be your Valentine.”

 _Ohmygod_.

“This is so gay,” Dean whisper-laughs, slightly hysterical. “Y’know that, right? So gay.”

“Hmm. Yes, it is,” Cas decides, before lurching forward and kissing Dean full on the mouth. Alfie’s hands fly to his face in tandem with Castiel’s, which shoot forward to wrap around Dean’s neck. Dean himself is paralysed, unmoving, at least until Cas pulls away with a soft sigh. Then he leans in, presses his lips softly to his friend’s, and begins to kiss him back.

Alfie casts about himself wildly. No one is looking, no one has seen- this is just theirs, this beginning, this first kiss. Well, and Alfie’s.

A tidal wave of guilt crashes over him, and he flings the cloth on the table and stumbles away wildly. He can’t believe that just happened.

“Hey, garcon?”

It’s Dean who calls for him, who drags his mouth a scant few centimetres from Castiel’s, just enough to rest their foreheads together. Both are smiling. “If you’re satisfied with the peep show, how ‘bout a bill?”

“Oh. Uh, right.”

He wishes he was bubbly enough to offer free drinks to the happy couple, but if he did he’d probably just look like some sort of voyeur. So he pockets his tip and waves them off, glowing from the inside with second-hand joy. They walk away like they came in half an hour earlier, as though nothing’s changed- hands in pockets, scuffed boots slapping the ground quietly and shoulders squared against the world. Only difference is the phone Dean has pressed against his ear.

“C’mon, Ellen, do a guy a favour? Throw some dead roses on the barstools, we’ll bring our own crappy champagne- Ellen? Ellen!”

Alfie hopes that if Ellen doesn’t come through, they’ll spend the rest of their Valentine’s Day here.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Early morning trickles slowly by, turning to afternoon. The regular barflies come to pay homage to their keg-gods, although some of them have clearly been corralled by partners into couple quality time. They’re the butt of many jokes and sniggers amongst their buddies. Anna takes her half hour break, and with Ash spending the day with his one true love, Skyrim, it’s left to Alfie to man the taps. Which he absolutely can do, and can do even better _without critical old men breathing down his neck and offering advice._

“Hey, dude. Can I get a pint of your finest ale and a tumbler of scotch for the lady?”

For a split second he thinks the redhead is Anna- but Anna doesn’t talk that way, and she doesn’t have a fringe or a pretty blonde hanging on her arm either.

“We- uh, I don’t know if we serve ale. That sounds medieval-y. Hang on, I’ll check with my boss,” he stutters. Alfie _hates_ working the bar. 

“Oh, he’s adorable,” coos the blonde girl, “Can we keep him?” 

“Jo!” the redhead laughs. “Sorry about her. Can’t take her anywhere.” 

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Gonna make me, Harvelle?” 

The two girls are giggling and shoving at one another playfully, but there’s something tense and almost self-conscious about it. The laughter dies down quickly, and they’re left fiddling with their hair, both pairs of eyes cast downwards. 

“Yeah. So, barkeep, a pint of Sam Adams for me-” 

“And a Jack and Coke.”

Alfie nods and reaches for a pint glass, twirling it elaborately in his hand before slotting it under the spout. Because this isn’t his first day on the job, dammit. The blonde gives a low whistle as the golden liquid begins to gush and swirl at the bottom of the cup. They need to turn the pressure down. 

“Look at you, hotshot. What’s your name?”

“Samandriel.”

“Sa- sorry, what?” 

“Alfie. My name’s Alfie.” 

“Well I’m Jo, this is Charlie. Who do you have to kill in a past life to get stuck with a name like that?” the blonde enquires. She’s smirking, eyebrow arched, and there’s something of the bitchy high school queen bee in her lovely face. Her eyes are warm, though, and even as she’s making fun of him Alfie doesn’t feel embarrassed. Charlie is staring at the side of her face, eyes crinkled in an almost hopeful smile.

“My mom’s quite religious. My father, he wanted me to be Alfie after a relative, but Mom won that battle. Officially at least. I don’t know,” he ducks his head self consciously, “I feel like an Alfie.”

_ Feel like an Alfie? What the hell does that mean?  _

Charlie’s nodding thoughtfully, though. “Yeah. Y’know, I see it. Alfie. Well, nice to meet you, Alfie.” 

“You too. Here’re your drinks, by the way.”

He’s surreptitiously carved a loveheartheart into the foam of Charlie’s pint, and as he hands Jo her whiskey he throws in a sparkly pink stirrer patterned with polka dots and literally a ton of glitter. He thought it’d be a nice touch, had bought the decorations yesterday and presented them to Anna shyly. She’d laughed at him, delighted. 

_ “You’re too much, Alfie.” _

He’d blushed.

Both girls are cooing over their drinks now, and Charlie has started snapping pictures for her tumblr. “Oh you are just precious. Jo, you have officially been ditched. Alfie here is my new bae.” 

Jo gasps in mock-horror, and once again today, Alfie finds himself reassessing his assumptions.

“Oh, are you guys together?”

Wrong question. Both girls titter and nod yes, but it’s reluctant and hesitant, each meeting the eyes of the other first as though to confirm.

“Yeah. We’re a thing. Me and Char. Hey,” Jo coughs, “Sorry, I’m just gonna run to the ladies. BRB.”

She hops off her stool and strides across the room to the toilets, Charlie’s eyes watching her wistfully. 

Alfie is mortified. “Oh God, I am- I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have asked, it wasn’t any of my business.” 

She shakes her head as he speaks, waving the words away. “Oh no, no I promise it’s fine. We’re just kinda…new, to the dating thing. It’s this long, crazy story, but hey. You don’t wanna hear my problems.” 

“Oh no, I do!” he blurts out. “I like stories. Long, crazy ones especially.”

Charlie grins up at him from under her scarlet fringe. “You’re askin’ for it. Okay, well…me and Jo met in grade school, back when we were like, six. My awesome personality naturally drew her in, and we bonded over Star Wars and animal crackers.” 

A vivid image springs to mind of two little girls, both pigtailed, sitting in the grass sharing a juicebox and giggling over aliens. He tries not to sigh like a wistful maiden. 

“Too cute, right? And we were BFFs for years. But, y’know. High school. People drift apart. And you’ve seen Jo- total heatbreaker. I was head over heels for that girl since I was a kid, but we had new friend groups, and then college…” Charlie’s smiling bravely, but there’s a hint of sadness to it. “Well, we’re both back in town last week, right? Visiting family. And I see her on a night out, in her mom’s bar, and I just think to myself that if I let her get away again, I’m gonna regret it. So I put the moves on, shook my hips a bit, and now we’re here. Talking about it.” 

“That’s a wonderful story,” Alfie whispers. “That’s so romantic.”  Somehow, this breaks the tension.

“Easy there, kid!” Charlie laughs. “It’s no big deal.” 

“Yes it is!” “Yeah,” Charlie smirks. “Yeah, I know it is. Holy balls, I am on a date with Joanna Beth Harvelle!” she giggles, somewhat hysterically. 

“She’s coming back!” Alfie hisses. He’s drawn in now, again, into a different page of a different love story, and he wants to know what happens next.” 

“Crap. How’s my hair?” 

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_? Just fi-”

“What’re we talking about?” Jo interjects smoothly, sliding into her seat. She’s fluffed up her blonde curls, undone a button on her plaid flannel shirt. 

“You,” Alfie blurts out, and if looks could kill Charlie’s glare would leave him a melted puddle on the bar floor. 

“That so?” Jo turns to Charlie, propping her chin on her hand expectantly. “All bad things, I’m sure.” 

“Oh, the worst.” 

“Actually, Charlie was telling me about how you guys met,” Alfie chimes in, trying to salvage the situation. “You know, childhood friends.” 

“Oh, right,” Jo snorts. “All about how I followed you around like a lovestruck puppy all through middle school, and pined from afar once we hit puberty and the thing to do was ‘play it cool’. Oh God,” Jo laugh-groans, burying her face in her hands. “You’re a cruel woman, Bradbury.” 

Charlie’s laugh is a shocked one. “You _pined_ after me?” 

Jo blinks. “Well, yeah. I wasn’t exactly subtle, Charlie. Dean used to tease me about getting drool all over my desk when you sat in front of me for AP Math.” 

Charlie snorts. “Dean spent his entire high school experience staring at Castiel’s ass, I’m surprised he remembered we existed.” 

Alfie’s mouth drops open as both girls start to snigger. “Dean and Castiel? You know those guys?” 

Both girls cry out in delight. “ _You_ know those guys? 

“They were in here earlier! Both cops? Dean’s blond and kinda loud-”

“Cas is a gorgeous little nerd?”

“Yeah!” 

“Yeah!” _What a small world_. “Wow,” he smiles, thinking about the way the two had looked at each other. 

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Wow? Wow what?” 

"Nothing."

"Something!" 

"What are you hiding from us, barkeep?" Jo asks suspiciously. Alfie throws his hands up in surrender. 

"Seriously, nothing! Just, you guys need to call them. I am not at liberty to discuss the matter any further at this time.”

“Huh?” 

“I dunno, I just think there’s…maybe something they need to tell you.” 

They pester and wheedle and cajole, but Alfie’s not willing to give them anything more than a knowing grin. He feels smug. It turns out that Jo is the daughter of the Ellen whom Dean had been pleading with on the phone earlier, and as they get up to leave they’re still plotting a stakeout in one of the booths of the Harvelle family restaurant later that night. 

“You better show up, barkeep,” Jo tells him threateningly. “If you’re gonna withhold juicy gossip from us, then you need to be there to analyze it with us once we find out what’s going down.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says sheepishly. _Surely they don’t really want me tagging along? Not on Valentine’s Day._

_“Jo,_ he’s probably got some lovely young thing with whom to spend the twilight,” Charlie waggles her eyebrows.

“Oh, right. Well, bring ‘em!” 

Alfie shakes his head vehemently. “No, I don’t-” 

“Come on! It’s not gonna be like, a double date or anything. There’ll probably be most of our gang there, the Roadhouse is like home base for us. We won’t take no for an answer,” Jo tells him seriously. “Just bring your honey with you. We’ll play nice.” 

What the hell. It’s the best offer he’s got all day. He finds himself agreeing before she’s finished speaking. 

“Awesomesauce! We’ll see you there then, Alfie. Keep it real. And make sure I bring this date of yours!” 

"I will!" 

And they’re gone, two pretty girls tripping out the door with their arms around each other’s waists. And here he is, the dumbass bartender who now has two hours to rustle up a date. 

“Oh, nards.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s really nightime now, and the bar is in filling up. Anna and Alfie are winding down their work, half an hour left on their shifts before Pam, Meg and Ava come in to replace them. Alfie’s spent the day alternately scrolling through his contact list, flirting ineptly with customers and kicking himself for being such an idiot.

_ They’re going to think you’re some loser who lies about having a girlfriend! They’re going to think you’re some loser who can’t  _ get _ a girlfirend!  _

_ You  _ are _ some loser who can’t get a girlfriend. _

It had started off as such a nice day. He tips his face onto the bar, buries his head in his arms and groans. 

“Why so glum, chum?” 

He looks up. Anna has flung her upper body over and is running her fingers through her long red hair, whipping it into a messy tail. His mouth goes dry. 

“Uh, nothing. Nothing really.” 

“C’mon,” Anna smiles at him warmly. “We’re friends, right? Tell me.”

_Friends_. 

“I need a date for tonight,” he blurts out impulsively, “Only I can’t find anyone. And I have this thing, and I need a date for it, and yeah…” 

_ Smooth as ever. _

Anna shrugs. “I’ll be your date. If you’ll have me, of course.”

And wings grow at his ankles, and his heart swells in his chest, and if he’s breathless it’s because there’s he’s soaring up into the clouds, and there’s probably not a lot of oxygen up here. 

“Yippee!” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’d said yippee.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The joint is jumping. 

Or so Anna says. She’d met him at the Roadhouse, having headed home to change out of her neat black skirt and polo shirt with the bar’s logo splashed across the front. Now she is nestled snugly under his arm, painfully pretty with her hair pulled back and the neckline of her dress swooping low. Not that he’d looked. 

The restaurant is bigger than it appears from the outside, filled with rowdy patrons and posters of blues greats and vinyls. A jukebox blasts some song he doesn’t recognize in the corner, something wild and aggressive that doesn’t do much to set the Valentine’s Day mood. This is more than made up for by the fushcia banners that dip low enough from the ceiling to brush against people’s heads. The walls are tacked with decorations, plastered with children’s hand-made construction paper and glitter Valentine’s cards. The general vibe of the place is loud, tacky and crowded.

It’s exhilarating.

Anna seems to agree, moving her shoulders in time to the beat and scanning the room with her huge brown eyes. 

“Where’re your friends?” she yells. 

“Uh…” 

“BARKEEP!” Charlie’s holler is loud even over the din, and two arms wind their way around his waist from behind and _squeeze_.”You made it!” 

“I did!” he laughs helplessly, doing his best to hug her back. “Charlie, this is Anna.”

“Hey,” Anna leans back to smile over Alfie’s shoulder, and he realises belatedly that he probably should have removed his arm. But she hadn’t pulled away. 

Charlie disentangles herself and scurries around to face them. “Charmed! We’ll have to introduce you to the rest of the squad.” 

“Where’s Jo?” Aflie asks, scanning the room for the blonde girl. Charlie sighs. 

“Prisoner of war, I’m afraid. D’s got her cornered.”

“Oh. That’s terrible.” 

“It is for you,” Charlie grins. “Seems we were uh, less subtle than we perhaps thought…Cas spotted us spying on them, and Jo didn’t run fast enough. No doubt Dean’s chewing her out right now, and she’ll have given you up as her source.”

“What?” he gasps. “I didn’t say anything!”

“Don’t worry so much, I’m kidding! We have these two friends,” Charlie explains to an amused looking Anna, “Been like peas in a really close, no-homo pod since sophomore year. Crazy sexual tension. And big-mouth here apparently saw them canoodling or something earlier, and filled us in.”

“Not cool,” Anna admonishes, expression serious but eyes twinkling. 

“Totally not cool! But, seems the rumour is true- we caught them holding hands and making googly eyes at each other over apple pie not ten minutes ago. Adorable,” Charlie sighs, dashing an imaginary tear from her eye. 

“Good to hear they got a table,” Alfie volunteers. “Maybe let me know which one it is so I can avoid it.” 

“Alfie I told you, they’re not mad! Now come on. You two have to help me rescue the fair maiden from Dean’s wrath.” Charlie leads the charge across the bar. 

“She’s a character,” Anna whispers to him as they make to follow. Well, she speaks as quietly one can through a cacophony of REO Speedwagon and shouted drinks orders.

“Oh yeah,” Alfie answers. “She’s crazy.” 

“You’ve obviously known her a long time.” 

“What?” 

“Gentlemen!” Charlie declares, arms flung out. They’ve stopped in a comparatively secluded corner of the room, at a small booth drizzled in rose petals that have been swept to one side. An unlit candle stands in the centre of the room, the faint smell of burning indicative that it had been hastily blown out. Dean and Castiel sit on either side, a sheepish Jo perched on the edge of the seat beside Dean. Her feet are pressed to the ground as though in preparation for flight, and the look she shoots them is grateful. 

“We have come to free the Lady Jo from your tyranny! Unhand her!” 

“Take her,” Dean grumbles. “You know what, why don’t you all have a seat while you’re here? Seems like privacy’s too much to hope for.” 

Cas scoots obligingly to the side, sarcasm clearly having shot over his messy bedhead. The look Dean shoots him is half-scowl, half fond. 

They all sit down, although Alfie hesitates and needs a push from Anna to do so. Dean squints at him for a minute. 

“Oh hey. Peep show kid. What’re you doing here?” 

“Peep show kid?” Anna snorts. 

“No! I’m not! It wasn’t like that!” 

“Dude,” Dean smirks. “Chill, I’m messing with you. Good to see you again.” 

“Don’t make fun of Samandriel,” Jo scolds. “He’s like Cas, he’s no sense for that kind of thing.” 

“Samandriel?” Cas enquires, leaning forward. “That sounds angelic.”

“So does Castiel,” Alfie realises. “You too?”

“I’m afraid so. Shield of God.”

“Angel of imagination.”

“How is it,” Charlie asks, misty-eyed, “How is it possible that you just keep on getting cuter?” 

The night goes on. Cas and Alfie bond over shared childhood horror stories, commiserate the pain of having religious sadists for parents. Anna gets filled in on the details of Charlie and Jo’s burgeoning relationship, and Dean and Castiel’s. Both men harrumph and change the subject hastily, but Alfie keeps seeing them grinning at each other. 

“I just can’t believe it!” Anna laughs. “Two adorable relationships beginning in the bar, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and I missed it!” 

“Jolie didn’t begin in your bar,” Charlie objects.

“We got together here.” 

“In the alleyway behind the kitchen, to be exact.” 

“Ah, me.” 

“And you,” Anna pokes Alfie in the ribs, “When did you become such a social butterfly? I would have assumed you’d known these guys for years.”

“Alfie’s endearing,” Cas muses. “People like him instinctively.” 

That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. 

_ Please don’t start crying.  _

“You gotta admit though, there is something about that bar,” Dean laughs. “We’re all like, little schoolbook examples of new relationships.” 

“How do you mean?” Jo asks with a frown.

“Well, look! There’s you and Charlie, newly together and starting to date. Then there’s me and Cas, ‘fessing up for the first time about all our big gay feelings. And then there’s these two crazy kids.” 

Four pairs of eyes turn to Alfie and Anna, and Alfie just knows his cheeks are heating up. “We’re not- I mean, we’re just friends,” Anna laughs, slightly embarrassed. A round of sceptical mm-hmms ring out, and Alfie tries to glare.

“Think I see what you mean, Dean-o,” Charlie laughs. She waves her hand between herself and Jo. “Stage three; settling into the relationship. Stage two,” she makes a loveheart shape with her hands and peers through it at Dean and Cas. “Dramatic declaration of undying love.” 

“And stage one!” she shouts over Dean and Cas’ protests. “Stage one…” she looks expectantly at Alfie and Anna. 

“Denial!” 

“Denial.” 

“Denial.”

“Alfie and Anna.” 

“Cas, no one believes that I-don’t-understand-your-Earthling-humour snark anymore. Get some new lines.”

“Fine. Denial.” 

Alfie laughs, looks down at Anna to apologize. She’s eyeing him speculatively. 

In the space of a second she swoops upward, rests a small hand on his hot cheek, and he has barely registered the feeling of a rollercoaster’s first plunge before she kisses him. Her mouth is warm and soft and smiling, and he’s smiling too, so much that they have to stop and the kiss is over before it’s really begun. 

“That look like denial to you?” Anna asks casually, settling back into her seat and smoothing her hands demurely over her lap.

And the crowd goes wild- Dean and Charlie whoop victoriously, Jo cackles and pumps her fist and Cas just smiles. 

Alfie Pike likes his job. 

He works in a bar with the girl of his dreams, shares furtive glances with a gorgeous redhead with a smile like starlight and laughing brown eyes. He watches people, even for a moment, gets to observe their lives and interactions. Their stories. Sometimes, on days like today, he even gets to become part of them. Three stages, three stories, and five new friends. The numeracy of it doesn’t add up, but he doesn’t care. He is awkward, he is tactless, he is endearing. He’s smiling like an idiot. 

“Alfie? You gonna say something?” Anna asks nervously, and her tone is turning apologetic. 

Alfie looks down at her and beams.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”


End file.
